


Red Sky in the Morning

by liluwrites



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Family, Gen, Hospital, Human AU, Italy Brothers, Juvenile Huntington’s Disease, Seizure, Terminal Illness, but mainly it’s about the brotherly love, this might make you cry, very very minor gerita
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-25
Updated: 2019-11-25
Packaged: 2021-02-17 23:23:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21551479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liluwrites/pseuds/liluwrites
Summary: When his older brother is diagnosed with a devastating disease, fifteen-year-old Feliciano must come to terms with Lovino’s rapid deterioration and the new timescale imposed on their life. With only a few years left together, he soon realises the depth of his love for Lovino, and the strength of a brotherly bond that can never be broken.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 37





	Red Sky in the Morning

**Author's Note:**

> I’m back! :)
> 
> Just a few quick notes:
> 
> 1\. Please do check the tags before reading this fic. If anything tagged could be upsetting for you, then please be cautious! Your happiness and health is the most important thing.
> 
> 2\. While I have done research on the effects of Juvenile Huntington’s Disease, I am not a doctor so there are likely to be inaccuracies. I have done my best to portray it as realistically as I can, but please don’t take the details in the story as fact.
> 
> 3\. Last but not least, enjoy!!

  
**I**

Everything begins on an ordinary Wednesday evening.

Perhaps it started later – with the diagnosis, perhaps, or the seizure – or maybe it was far earlier, seventeen years ago when Lovino took his first breath out of the womb – but for Feliciano, it’s this Wednesday that sticks in his memory as the exact moment when he first realised something was wrong.

It’s a day like any other; Feliciano had worked in the school newspaper office with Ludwig and Kiku in the afternoon, then had walked home by the river in the lukewarm spring breeze. Now, they’re sitting at the kitchen table, he and Lovino and Nonno, winding steaming spaghetti around their forks, when Nonno says;

“I got a call from your teacher today, Lovino.”

Lovi pauses, his fork halfway to his mouth. “Yeah?”

“About a fight.”

“Oh.” He looks away, and hastily shoves a forkful of spaghetti into his mouth. He looks guilty as hell. Lovi has never been good at lying.

“This isn’t like you, I’ve never known you to get into a fight before.” Nonno’s voice is gentle and coaxing. Nonno never raises his voice at them, even when he’s really mad. “Do you want to tell me what it was about?”

Lovi shrugs, his face flushed. “Not really.”

There’s a pause, and Feliciano puts down his fork and glances between the two of them, slightly unnerved. The atmosphere is uncomfortably strained, and suddenly he doesn’t feel like eating anymore.

Nonno hesitates, then says, “Your teacher mentioned you were unhappy about your grades. He seems to think that might have triggered the fight.”

Lovi doesn’t reply. His shoulders are hunched high by his cheeks, and his entire body is rigid with tension.

“I’m not angry at you, Lovino, I’m just surprised, and a little disappointed. You’re seventeen years old, old enough to know better than to start fights in the school yard. Think about what kind of example you’re setting for your little brother.”

Feliciano bites his lip, wishing Nonno hadn’t drawn him into the conversation. “It’s okay, Nonno,” he says. “I already know not to get into fights.”

Nonno smiles briefly at him. “Good boy, Feliciano.” He turns back to Lovi. “Can I see these grades of yours? Perhaps we can sort out whatever was making you upset today.”

Lovi shrugs again. His entire body is radiating stress and frustration, and Feliciano opens his mouth to suggest to Nonno that maybe they should talk about it later, but Nonno speaks again before he can.

“Come now, Lovino,” he says, laughing lightly. “I’m sure they can’t be too terrible!”

After that, everything happens in an instant. 

Lovi springs to his feet, his chair toppling backwards and clattering against the tile, and his arm shoots out, smashing his plate against the floor in a heart-stopping shatter of porcelain shards. Feliciano squeaks and leaps away from the table, arms wrapped around himself in shock, and watches, horrified, as Lovi begins to kick at the table legs, launch cutlery across the room, all the while screeching a shrill, inhuman cry between ragged breaths.

He has never seen anyone lose control so completely.

“Feliciano,” Nonno says, his voice steady and calm, his eyes never leaving Lovi’s face. “Go to your room. Now.”

He nods, unable to find his voice, and scurries from the room – but once safely in the lounge, he pauses, then takes a deep, shaky breath and sits against the wall to listen.

Lovi’s screams begin to quieten, growing weaker with exhaustion, and are replaced by the sound of Nonno’s soft voice, murmuring gently and soothingly despite the chaos only moments before. Even though Feliciano’s heart is pounding and he feels lightheaded with anxiety, he feels himself relax a little, because Nonno has everything under control – until, seconds later, Lovi begins to cry. Huge, desperate sobs tear out of him, so loud that even in the next room Feliciano cringes at the noise – and then, tentatively, he approaches the doorway to look.

In the sliver of white light through the half-open door, Nonno and Lovi are standing in the midst of the wreckage – shattered plates and spilled food and cutlery – clutching one another as if they are shipwrecked in a storm. Lovi is sobbing on Nonno’s shoulder, choking out fragments of words. Nonno just stands, calm and composed, swaying gently on the spot and whispering softly into Lovi’s hair.

“I’ve got you, my sweet boy,” he murmurs. “I’ve got you.”

Slowly, Feliciano slips back into the shadows. His mind is racing as he struggles to understand what has just happened. Lovi has always been hot-tempered and irritable, but that’s just how Lovi is. He could never have imagined an outburst like this.

But there’s nothing he can do now, not while Lovi is still breaking down in Nonno’s arms, so he murmurs a quiet goodnight over his shoulder and trudges upstairs to his room. He pulls out his phone, his hand hovering over Ludwig’s contact – then decides against it, because he doesn’t have any words to say, and he doesn’t really have anything to tell. Instead, he rolls onto his back on the bed and gazes at the lamplit ceiling, his brain stirring with worry.

As he tries to sleep, the image keeps replaying behind his closed eyelids; the chair falling back, the plate hitting the floor, the awful screaming. His brave, dependable older brother who had taught him to ride a bike and had scared away bullies, sobbing as if his heart was being torn apart.

He forces down the tight knot of anxiety in his throat.

Lovi will be alright. It’s no big deal.

But later, when Feliciano thinks back, it’s this day he’ll always remember as the beginning of the end.

  
**II**

A week later, Nonno gets Lovi a tutor. 

Yao is a college student, only a few years older than Lovi, and Feliciano thinks he’s pretty cool; he has a ponytail and a colourful tattoo of koi carp on his bicep that look like they’re swimming when he flexes. Feliciano also notices his clothes nearly always smell of weed, but he decides not to mention this to Nonno.

Yao comes every Wednesday and Friday, and sits at the kitchen table helping Lovi with his math and English assignments. Sometimes, when Feliciano has finished all his homework and is bored, he’ll join them there and listen to Yao’s explanations of complicated math questions. Lovi is two years older than him so the work is far above his grade level, but Yao has a soothing voice and a pretty accent, and Feliciano likes to hear him talk.

Lovi, however, quickly grows frustrated.

“I don’t get it!” He snaps one Friday afternoon, flinging his ballpoint pen against the tabletop. “I’m doing everything fucking right and it’s still not working!”

“It’s okay, Lovino, this is some difficult stuff,” Yao consoles him. “You’ll get there. We managed this on Wednesday, remember?”

“Then why the fuck can’t I remember it now?”

Feliciano cranes his head over Lovi’s shoulder to look at the worksheet and immediately frowns. His usual neat cursive script is shaky and off-centre, wobbling crookedly above the lines on the page like a child’s scrawl. He sighs, feeling a twinge of exasperation.

“Lovi,” he says. “You’re supposed to try. It’s not fair to make Yao read that just because you don’t want to work properly.”

Lovi scowls at him. “Leave me alone, Feli. I’m trying, okay?”

Feliciano is unconvinced, but he gives him a hug anyway, because he doesn’t like it when Lovi is mad at him. “Okay.”

“This isn’t your normal handwriting?” Yao asks.

“No,” Feliciano says, because Lovi is glaring at his scribbled worksheet and seems unwilling to answer. “His handwriting is usually super pretty. Wait a minute!” He unwraps his arms from around Lovi’s shoulders and jumps up to run and grab one of Lovi’s workbooks from last year. He opens it and flicks through the pages of neat, flowing lines. “Look, it’s normally really neat. He’s writing messy now because he doesn’t like having to do extra work after school.”

Lovi clenches his fists. “That’s not true. I am trying, I promise.”

“Then why are you writing so weird?”

“I –“

Yao cuts them off before they can start bickering. “It’s alright, finals year is hard for everyone and stress can cause all kinds of problems. How about we finish early today so you can relax and get some rest? We’ll try again next week.”

Lovi sighs, clearly still frustrated, but nods. “Yeah. Okay.”

“Cool. I’m just going to have a chat with your grandad before I leave.”

Yao goes into the lounge to find Nonno. Feliciano considers staying with Lovi to try to find out what’s wrong, but he’s scared Lovi will explode again, and he’s also kind of curious, so he tiptoes into the passage between the lounge and the kitchen and presses his eye to the tiny sliver of light between the door hinges.

“-get him tested for a learning difficulty. Dyslexia or dyscalculia or something.” Yao is standing with his back to the door, and Nonno is opposite him, arms folded. “The level of difficulty he’s having with his schoolwork – I’ve never seen it before, especially from someone who is supposedly a straight-A student.”

“He’s never had any trouble before, though,” Nonno says pensively. “He’s always had brilliant report cards. He’s never been great at studying, but he’s never needed to. He’s got good grades without it. Surely if he had a learning difficulty it would’ve been diagnosed years ago?”

“I would have thought so, too,” Yao says. “But I can’t think of another explanation. It’s – I’ll explain something to him on Wednesday, and by the end of the session he’s got it – but two days later it’s like he’s never come across it in his life. He can’t remember anything I’ve taught him.” 

“Hmm. Perhaps I should look into a diagnosis.” Their footsteps approach the door, and Feliciano hurries back into the kitchen as it swings open. “Thanks for letting me know. Have a good weekend.”

“You, too.”

Their voices fade as they walk towards the front porch. Feliciano slips back into the kitchen, where Lovi is still hunched over his worksheet. When he enters, Lovi looks up with a hopeful smile.

“I think I’ve got it!”

He crosses the room and looks over Lovi’s shoulder at the scribbled mess of scratchings-out and ink smudges. Through the chaos, he can see an answer circled. It’s the same answer Lovi had given at the start of the session, the one Yao had clearly marked as incorrect.

“See? I’m not fucking dumb.” 

Feliciano can’t bear to correct him, not when he looks so desperate, so instead he wraps his arms around him in a tight hug and rests his cheek against his hair. 

“No, Lovi. You’re not dumb.”

  
**III**

As Yao had suggested, Nonno arranges an appointment with an educational psychologist. The next available session, it turns out, is five months away.

“This ridiculous healthcare system,” he grumbles as he sets down the phone. “I can’t believe we have to wait five months just to spend twenty minutes with a doctor.”

“It’s fine, Nonno,” Lovi says from his position on the couch. At Feliciano’s insistence, they are having a Disney marathon, curled up together under a blanket with a bowl of popcorn between them. “I don’t care. There’s nothing wrong with me, anyways. I just suck at math.”

Nonno purses his lips. “I’d feel happier if you could have an appointment anyway.”

“I don’t _need_ one! I don’t need a fucking doctor to tell me I’m dumb.”

Feliciano sits up, a spark of indignation stirring in his chest. “You’re not dumb! Who called you dumb? I’ll fight them.”

Lovi tousles his hair fondly. “You couldn’t fight your way out of a paper bag. Thanks, though.”

Nonno sighs. “Well, it is what it is, I suppose. No point complaining about what we can’t change.”

“Yep.” Feliciano leans his head against Lovi’s shoulder. “Wanna watch Frozen with us?”

He watches them for a moment, a smile playing at his lips. “Why not? Come on, move up, make room for your Nonno.”

So Nonno squashes in between them under the blanket and wraps an arm around each of them, and they watch the movie together. About halfway through, Lovi accidentally kicks the entire bowl of popcorn onto the floor, and Feliciano laughs so hard he almost falls off the couch – and, for the first time in over a month, everything finally feels like it might be okay.

  
**IV**

It isn’t okay for long. Barely a week later, Feliciano is sitting hunched at the top of the stairs at one in the morning, chewing on a hangnail and listening to Lovi and Nonno arguing downstairs.

“What time do you call this?” Nonno isn’t shouting – he never shouts – but his voice is raised enough that Feliciano can hear him clearly. “You know your curfew is eleven, young man.”

“For god’s sake, Nonno, I was out with my friends! Am I not allowed to go out with friends anymore, huh?”

“You can go out as much as you like, but your curfew is eleven and I want you home by then. Why were you out so late?”

“I already told you, I was with my friends!”

“Yes, and you should have been home by eleven.”

“Ugh!” There’s a crashing sound, followed by a loud thump, and Feliciano flinches.

“Be careful, Lovino!” Nonno says, and his voice is laced with concern. “Are you drunk?”

“Jesus Christ, no!” 

“I’m not going to be angry, I just want you to be honest with me so I can make sure you’re going to be safe tonight.”

“I’m not fucking drunk! And I’m not high, either. Just let me go to bed, goddamnit.”

“Alright, Lovino.”

The rest of the conversation is inaudible, but a few moments later, Lovi appears at the foot of the stairs. Feliciano watches as he climbs them, more slowly than usual, carefully navigating each step at a time. When he reaches the step Feliciano is sitting on, he stumbles, and Feliciano shoots out an arm to steady him. Lovi blinks at him, surprised.

“Oh. Hi, Feli.” His voice is slightly slurred.

Feliciano slowly releases his grip on his sleeve. “Are you sure you’re not drunk? I promise I won’t tell Nonno if you are.”

For an instant, irritation flares in his eyes, then he relaxes and smiles slightly. “I’m not drunk, I promise.”

“Pinky swear?” 

Lovi rolls his eyes, but he hooks his outstretched finger around Feliciano’s. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. I wouldn’t lie to you.”

Satisfied, Feliciano releases his hand, and watches as he disappears down the darkened corridor to the bathroom. He stays at the top of the stairs a while longer, listens to the creak and whistle of the night and the soft patter of Nonno’s footsteps below, then tiptoes into Lovi’s bedroom and wriggles beneath the blankets beside him.

Lovi groans in half-hearted protest of the bed invasion, but wraps an arm around him regardless. Feliciano snuggles close to his warmth, then sniffs tentatively. He doesn’t smell of alcohol or drugs – although, honestly, he doesn’t really know what drugs smell like.

Lovi snorts. “Are you sniffing me? What are you, a dog?”

He doesn’t reply, just edges closer and whispers, “How come you were home so late?”

In the darkness, he sees the dim reflection of Lovi’s eyes flicker slightly. “I missed the fucking bus.”

“How? There’s one every half hour.”

There’s a pause, then Lovi says, almost inaudibly, “I forgot which bus would take me home.”

His sombre tone sends a chill down Feliciano’s spine, but he masks his concern with a giggle. “You’re so silly, Lovi! You’ve taken that bus every week for _years_.” 

“Yeah. Well. I forgot this time.”

“Didn’t you have your phone?”

“My phone?” Lovi blinks at him in the darkness. “Yeah. Why?”

“You could’ve called Nonno. Then he wouldn’t’ve been mad.”

“Oh,” he breathes. “Oh. Yeah. I didn’t think of that.” He groans softly and pushes his head into the pillow. “I really am a fucking dumbass.”

Feliciano frowns. “Stop saying that. You’re not.”

His voice muffled by the pillow, Lovi says, “My brain feels like it’s been put in a blender.”

Feliciano gives a sympathetic laugh and pets his hair. “It’s okay, you’re still smarter than me.”

“That’s not hard,” he snorts.

He pouts at him, relief seeping into his body at the return to vague normality. “You’re so mean to me.”

Lovi doesn’t answer, but a moment later, his arm reaches out and draws Feliciano close to his chest in a warm embrace. “Go to sleep, Feli.”

There’s a part of him that wants to protest, but it’s almost two in the morning and he’s exhausted, and the feel of Lovi’s arms around him is so comforting that he can already feel his eyes beginning to skip closed. He yawns.

“Goodnight, Lovi.”

“‘Night.”

As he feels himself drifting into unconsciousness, still huddled close in his brothers’ embrace, he’s faintly aware of Lovi beside him, his eyes wide open, stiff and awake until long after he has fallen asleep.

  
**V**

Things don’t really return to normal after that.

In a sense, they do – Feliciano and Lovino keep going to school, Yao keeps visiting on Wednesdays and Fridays, Feliciano spends time with Kiku and Ludwig and all his other friends, and Lovino studies hard for his upcoming exams.

But at the same time, there are small changes about Lovi that make Feliciano uneasy.

Lovi starts falling more; tripping over stairs, curbs, his own feet, almost as if he were drunk. Feliciano laughs at him and calls him clumsy, but it worries him a little, especially when Lovi gets bruised knees and scraped hands, and a busted lip from where he hit his chin on the corner of a table.

“Be _careful_ , Lovino,” Nonno says every time Lovi stumbles or falls or breaks something, to the point where Feliciano comes to anticipate it; sometimes, when he’s upstairs in his room and hears a crash downstairs, he mouths the words as Nonno says them: _be careful, Lovi_.

Lovi starts to forget things as well. It’s only small things, like homework for school and the eggs he needs to buy at the grocery store, but it happens so frequently that Feliciano almost wonders if he’s messing with them. It’s only when Lovi calls him from the mall they’ve been going to their entire lives saying he took a wrong turn and can’t remember the way home that it becomes obvious that there really is a problem.

Despite this, Feliciano isn’t too worried. Nonno is busy calling doctors and booking appointments, and Feliciano trusts that he will be able to fix it, the way he always does.

Which is why, when it happens, Feliciano is so terrifyingly unprepared.

It’s Thursday afternoon and Feliciano has just got home from after-school choir practice. Nonno is out in the hallway, on the phone to yet another doctors’ office, so it’s easy to sneak past him into the kitchen to grab some of his freshly-made flapjack slices while they’re still warm.

Lovi is already in the kitchen when he enters – he had stayed home from class that day, saying he felt “really fucking weird” – with his back to him, pouring himself a glass of ice tea from the jug. Feliciano smiles. Lovi won’t tattle on him for stealing flapjack; in fact, he might even join in.

“Psst, Lovi,” he says. “Wanna be my partner in crime?”

Lovi doesn’t turn around. He’s standing oddly still and silent at the counter, as if he were a wax model frozen in place, and as Feliciano watches, his glass begins to overflow, his hand continuing to pour ice tea over the rim of the glass and onto the countertop.

He hurries forward nervously. “Stop pouring it, you’re spilling it everywhere!”

When he doesn’t respond, Feliciano reaches out to take the jug from him – Lovi’s hands are weirdly shaky, nowadays, and sometimes he needs help with things like buttons and shoelaces – but before he gets the chance, in an awful, horrifying moment that will be fixed in Feliciano’s mind forever, Lovi crumples to the floor. 

“Lovi?” He asks tentatively, and holds out a hand to him. Perhaps he has just fallen, the way he often does; but Lovi just lays there, still and stiff, slowly clenching and unclenching his fists.

Then his eyes roll back and he begins to seize.

_“Lovi!”_

All the air has been drained from the room. Feliciano watches in horror as Lovi’s head slams repeatedly against the floor, his skull rattling against the hard tile. Without thinking, he drops to his knees and puts his hand beneath his head to cushion the impact, only to feel his fingers blossom with throbbing pain as Lovi’s head crushes them hard against the floor.

He had learnt seizure response in school one time, and tiny flashes of memory are darting through his mind, but his brain feels like static and he hadn’t even really listened in that class, because it had all seemed so distant, and he would never have thought two years ago that he would see his older brother writhing on the kitchen floor with drool slipping from the corner of his mouth and inhuman gurgling sounds rising up from his throat and – god he can’t handle this, he can’t do this, he can’t watch Lovi suffer here alone and _where the hell is Nonno?_

“Lovi!” He cries, half-sobbing. He tries to call for Nonno, but Lovi’s name is the only thing that will come out of his mouth. _“Lovi!”_

Nonno skids into the kitchen in his socks. “Oh my god, Lovino,” he whispers, then drops to his knees at his side and pulls out his phone. “Yes, we need an ambulance, my grandson is having a seizure – “

Everything is a blur after that.

Through the swirling fog, he’s vaguely aware of flashing lights and unfamiliar footsteps and frantic voices, a blanket draped around his shoulders and a firm hand on his back guiding him into the ambulance. His mind is fuzzy like a broken television and he’s trembling the way he does after a really bad panic attack, and somehow it doesn’t feel like he’s inside his body anymore.

His thoughts return sometime later – he doesn’t know how long, because he can’t remember when it all started – and he finds himself sitting in a plastic-coated armchair next to Nonno in a near-empty waiting room. His fingers feel heavy and numb, and when he looks down, he can see that the middle and ring finger of his right hand are bandaged together, with a wooden board to keep them straight.

He squints at the bandages in wonder, trying to remember when it was done. In the ambulance, perhaps? Or here in the waiting room? He’s sure he wasn’t taken anywhere else.

“Nonno?” He says hoarsely.

Nonno glances down at him and smiles softly. His face is grey and drawn with worry. “There you are. Are you back with us now? You’ve been out of it for quite a while.”

“Out of it?”

“You were dissociating. You wouldn’t respond to anything we were saying to you. The nurses were worried you were in shock, but I said you just needed some time.”

He blinks, his mind struggling to keep up. “Oh. Sorry.”

“Oh, no, don’t be sorry, sweet boy. It’s okay.”

He nods and rests his head tiredly against Nonno’s shoulder. And then, suddenly, a spark of fear shoots through him and he sits upright. “Where’s Lovi?”

Nonno’s expression falters. “They’ve taken him for some tests to see if they can find out what caused the…you know. I’ve been told they’re going to keep him in overnight for observation.”

“Oh.” Overnight. Feliciano imagines himself and Nonno returning home to an empty house, a house with glass shards and iced tea and blood on the kitchen tiles, a house without Lovi. The idea makes him feel cold and sick. “What about…what about us?”

“I need to be here with Lovino,” Nonno says. “I can give you some money for a taxi home. Or,” he adds, perhaps noticing his expression, “you could ask Ludwig if you can spend the night?”

“Forgot my phone,” he mutters. Then, louder, “Anyway, I want to stay here too, with Lovi.”

Nonno sighs, but wraps an arm around him and guides his head to rest against his chest. “Okay, sweet boy. Try to get some sleep.”

Feliciano tucks himself under Nonno’s arm and closes his eyes, but he can’t sleep. The ward is too cold and the wooden arm of the chair is digging into his chest, and the sound of the reception phone ringing keeps dragging him back to consciousness. He drifts in and out of sleep throughout the night, the fluorescent lights of the hospital turning the backs of his eyelids orange, and wakes up, stiff and itchy-eyed, when the clock on the wall opposite reads half past five.

He glances over at Nonno. Nonno is fast asleep, his face old and lined and grey shadows under his eyes. He’s never seen him so vulnerable before, so frail, and it makes him feel strangely cold.

Nonno isn’t invincible and unshakeable, he realises, and it frightens him. Nonno can’t fix everything.

An hour later, Nonno slowly stirs and winces as he stretches out his stiff limbs. Feliciano sees the exact moment he remembers where he is; the pain and worry and fear all crashes into his eyes, darkens them – and suddenly Feliciano can’t bear to stay there any longer. He needs to get away.

“I’m going to school now,” he announces, standing up from his chair.

“School?” Nonno blinks at him. “You don’t need to go to school today, Feliciano. I’ll explain to your teachers.”

“I want to go.” He’s bouncing on the balls of his feet, practically vibrating with nervous energy. “Please?”

Nonno raises his eyebrows, then shrugs and reaches into his pocket for his keys. “Very well, if you insist. Take the keys to the house so you can let yourself in afterwards. I’ll message you to let you know when we’re likely to be home.”

“‘Kay.” He kisses Nonno on the cheek and hurries out of the waiting room into the empty white corridor. He glances around, disorientated by the unfamiliar surroundings, then follows the arrow floor decals to the exit.

He’s early to school, but Ludwig and Kiku are there already, lingering by the gate. As he comes closer, he sees their faces morph into identical expressions of concern, but he isn’t sure why – until he catches sight of himself in the pane of a school window, crumpled clothes and tousled hair and deep purple shadows beneath his eyes.

“Feli?” Kiku asks in his quiet voice. “Are you alright?”

Ludwig lifts his bandaged hand gently. “What’s happened to your fingers?”

Kiku’s soft palm rests on his forehead. “Do you feel unwell?”

“Where’s your bag?”

“Did you sleep last night?”

Last night. This has all happened in one night, everything has changed, and his friends have no idea. The world shifts in and out of focus, and reality blurs. He looks between their faces, welling with tenderness and concern.

“Feli?”

Feliciano bursts into tears.

———

They don’t go to school that day. 

Ludwig wraps an arm around him, and together, the three of them walk back out the school gates and towards the park. No one stops them. Perhaps they see Feliciano, dark-eyed and sobbing, and decide not to intervene. 

At the park, they all pile onto the wide basket swing, Feliciano tucked in the middle with his face hidden in Ludwig’s shirt, and Kiku gently rocking the swing with his toe. They wait patiently until his tears fade into sniffles and hiccups, then question him tentatively. He tells them everything.

“We don’t know what’s wrong with him,” he concludes shakily. “He could have died, and we don’t know why.”

Kiku lays a hand lightly on his arm. “They’ll figure it out,” he says. “There are anti-seizure medicines they could give him so it won’t happen again. My brother takes them.”

Feliciano sniffles and wipes his eyes on the handkerchief Ludwig has lent him. “Yes, but what if they can’t fix him? What if he has a – a brain tumour or something?”

Ludwig holds him tighter. Kiku hesitates. “They have medications for that, too. And treatments. And surgery. The survival rate sometimes isn’t bad.”

“But I don’t want there to be a survival rate!” He wails.

“Shh,” Ludwig says. “We need to stop speculating. Whatever happens, you’ll be able to handle it.”

Feliciano sighs and leans back into the comforting warmth of his friends. “I just want Lovi to be okay.”

“I know,” Ludwig says, and presses his lips briefly to his forehead. “I know.”

Both Kiku and Ludwig offer to let him return to their respective houses once the school day is over, but Feliciano refuses. Secretly, he hopes Nonno and Lovi will already be home, smiling and ready with a simple answer to everything – but when he gets home, the house is dim and silent, and there is still broken glass on the kitchen floor.

He can’t look at it.

Through half-closed eyes, he forces himself to sweep it up despite the throbbing in his fingers, and scrub the sticky ice tea off the floor. Once he’s started cleaning, he can’t stop, and he polishes the entire kitchen and vacuums the lounge and brushes off the couch cushions, and is just about to to start on the windows when he hears a taxi engine on the street outside.

The door opens, and he hears voices.

“Here we are, Lovino, take your shoes off – yes, I can do your laces – and your coat – do you need help? No, okay - that’s it, that’s it, there we go. Come in – carefully - let’s see if your brother’s home…”

“Lovi! Nonno!” Feliciano tears down the hallway to greet them. He’s about to fling himself at them for a hug, but stops himself, because Lovi might be hurting and he doesn’t want to make him hurt even more. “What did the doctors say?”

Nonno laughs wearily as he shrugs off his coat. “They don’t know yet, Feliciano. Lovino has been given some tests, and we’ve been referred to a neurologist.”

“What?”

“A brain doctor,” Lovino tells him in a tired voice.

Feliciano resists the urge to glare at him. “I know what a neurologist is. I mean, why don’t they know yet?”

“These things can take time,” Nonno tells him. “Doctors are humans too. They need time to figure things out.”

Feliciano pouts, but he can’t be too annoyed, not when Lovi is home and safe. He’s pale, with a discoloured bruise on his left cheek and a thick white bandage around his head, but he’s very much alive and that’s all that matters.

Tentatively, he reaches up to touch the white gauze around Lovi’s head. “Does it hurt?”

Lovi flinches away slightly. “Only a bit. I’m fine.”

“You hit the floor really hard.” He bites his lip. “It was scary.”

“Sorry,” Lovi whispers.

“No, don’t be sorry, it’s not your fault. You didn’t mean to get hurt.”

Instead of replying, Lovi gently picks up Feliciano’s injured hand and inspects it sadly. “Not just for yesterday,” he says. “I mean for everything. These entire past few months have been so weird, and I’ve been messing everything up for you, and I’m just so fucking sorry.”

Lovi’s voice cracks at the same time as tears begin to well in Feliciano’s eyes, and he steps forward and pulls Lovi into the tightest hug he can, squeezing his arms almost painfully hard around his back. Lovi’s hands settle around his shoulders, gripping his shirt and clinging to him as if he’s the only thing keeping him afloat, and they stand there, a tiny, safe island of just the two of them, sheltering each other from the storm outside. 

Then Lovi steps away, and the spell is broken.

“We’ll figure it out,” Feliciano tells him with as much certainty as he can muster. “Everything will be okay.”

Lovino just nods and ruffles his hair, and Feliciano knows neither of them truly believe it.

  
**VI**

A few weeks later, Nonno receives a call from the hospital. 

“They want us to come in tomorrow for bloodwork results,” he tells Lovino. 

Lovi nods. “‘Kay.” 

He looks nervous, so Feliciano snuggles up closer to him on the couch and leans his head against his shoulder. Honestly, he is frightened too. 

Despite the medications Lovi has been given and his temporary leave from school, things haven’t improved since their emergency trip to the hospital. If anything, it’s got worse. Lovi complains of pain in his muscles, bad enough that he can’t walk without tears springing to his eyes, and says it constantly feels like he’s thinking through a thick fog. He forgets words when he’s speaking – but he uses short sentences now, anyway, because every word seems to be torn painfully from his throat. His body moves when he doesn’t want it to.

Some days are better than others, but it’s still frightening to watch.

Nonno smiles slightly. “Don’t look so anxious, boys. All this means is that we’ll finally have some answers, then Lovi can get treatment. It’s a good thing.”

“I know,” Feliciano says, trying to mirror the smile. “We’re gonna make Lovi all better.”

Lovi squeezes his hand.

The next day, Feliciano stands on the doorstep and watches Nonno and Lovi walk out into the rain. He watches Nonno help Lovi down the step on the porch and across the driveway to the van, open the door and help him in, lean across him to fasten the seatbelt. Then he raises a hand at Feliciano in a brief wave. “Have a good day at school!”

Feliciano waves until they are out of sight.

When he gets home from school, the house is quiet. 

“I’m home!” He calls, kicking off his shoes in the hallway and tossing his jacket on a hook. “Nonno? Lovi?”

“We’re in the kitchen,” Nonno replies quietly.

When Feliciano arrives, Nonno and Lovi are sitting silently at the table cradling steaming mugs. He drops into the seat beside Lovi. “Hi,” he says. “What did the doctor say?”

Nonno sighs. Opens his mouth and closes it again. Swallows. It sends chills down Feliciano’s spine.

“What?” He asks urgently. “What is it? Tell me.”

Lovino darts a tongue over his lips, then says, “I have Juvenile Huntington’s Disease.”

He blinks. “I don’t know what that is. Can they fix it?”

“No.”

The word echoes off the tile. Suddenly, the cosy, familiar kitchen seems chasmic.

“What do you mean, no?”

“They can’t fix it. I have ten years.”

“Ten years – _what?_ ”

Nonno’s warm hand settles over his on the table. “Let me start from the beginning, Feliciano.”

And so Nonno tells him everything; about how all Lovi’s problems – the shaking and the memory loss and the anger and the pain and the seizure – are all part of one huge, terrifying neurological condition for which there’s no cure, and which will only get worse and worse until, finally, it kills him.

He explains it so calmly, his voice even and controlled, the way he always does when they have a problem. It’s the voice that has soothed Feliciano so many times over the years; it’s a voice that says _“everything is okay, we can fix this”._

But they can’t fix it, not this time. Because Lovino is only seventeen years old and he is dying, and there is nothing they can do about it. 

———

That night, Feliciano curls up next to Lovino’s sleeping form and listens to Nonno scream and tear up the plants in the garden, and he knows nothing will be the same from now on.

**VII: One Year Later**

“Nonno, Lovi, I’m home!” Feliciano tosses his dripping coat on the hook and kicks off his boots. Outside, the rain patters against the windows. It’s the first rainfall after a crisp, dry February, and it’s come heavy and sudden, taking everyone by surprise.

Feliciano doesn’t mind. He loves the rain.

When there’s no reply, he pads through to the kitchen and pours himself a glass of milk. On the countertop is a note in Nonno’s swirling script:

> _Feliciano_
> 
> _Gone out for groceries, Lovino is in the lounge. Be back soon_
> 
> _Love you_
> 
> _Nonno xx_

Smiling, he folds up the note and pokes his head into the living room. 

“Hi, Lovi – “ Then he stops. The wheelchair is parked in front of the television, the flickering screen still playing, but it is empty. “Lovi?”

He glances around the living room, then up the stairs, even though Lovi can’t climb the stairs anymore without help. He flings open every door in the house, including the bathrooms, which don’t have locks anymore. There is no sign of Lovino anywhere. 

His heart rate picks up. Two years ago, it would have seemed ridiculous for him to be so frightened over losing track of his eighteen-year-old brother, but things have changed unimaginably this past year, with constant doctor’s appointments and genetic testing – Feliciano’s own test had come back negative, much to their relief – and now there are so many things that could happen to Lovi if he’s left alone for more than a few minutes.

There are stairs he could fall down, sharp corners he could hit his head on, hard floors where he could hurt himself during a seizure. They’re working on making the house safe for him, but it’s difficult.

A lot of things are difficult now.

“Lovi?” He pops his head back into the kitchen, even looks under the table, then crosses into the laundry room – and freezes.

The back door to the yard is open, swinging gently on its hinges, a silver sheet of sideways rain pattering onto the tiles. Thunder crashes, and the yard flashes with lightning. 

“Lovi!” He calls out into the murky greyness. “Lovi!”

His only answer is the muffled footsteps of the rain.

With a whispered curse, he grabs Nonno’s gardening jacket from the peg by the door and steps into his oversized boots, then treads out into the mud.

“Lovi?” He turns slowly as he treks across the grass, squinting against the rain for the shadowed shape of Lovi. Fuck, he should have brought a flashlight.

It’s only when he reaches the end of the garden that he sees him. Lovino is facing away from him, arms at his side, chin lifted, his entire silhouette backlit by the watery glow of the security lamp. He isn’t wearing a coat or a hat, or even shoes; he stands there, hair plastered to his face, clothes clinging, sodden socks coated in mud, as if oblivious to the rain.

Feliciano hurries towards him. “Oh, no, Lovi, what are you doing? You’re so wet!”

Lovi turns his head to look at him. His face is streaked with raindrops, tendrils of dark hair curling into his eyes, but his lips are raised in a serene smile. He holds out a hand invitingly. “Feli.”

“Lovi, you need to come inside.” He doesn’t know why he’s so frightened, but his hands are shaking, and it isn’t just from the cold. “Please, Lovi, please come inside. It’s so dark and cold.”

Lovi’s dark eyes glance over him and, even though sometimes it seems like Lovi is so far away, there is a familiar warmth and brotherly affection in his gaze. “It’s okay.”

He outstretches his hand further, and this time Feliciano steps forward and takes it. 

Lovi tilts his head back up to the sky, unflinching against the falling rain, and Feliciano mirrors him. He watches the way the raindrops catch in his eyelashes and sparkle like diamonds, at the bright pearlescent moon that glows despite the layer of cloud, feels Lovi’s firm, damp grip on his hand and the warmth radiating from him, and suddenly he never wants this moment to end.

The progression of Lovino’s disease has been fast, faster than anyone had expected, and suddenly the ten years have begun to seem like five, and possibly not even that. It’s impossible to predict how long Lovi will stay with them, but they all know it won’t be long now.

Feliciano grips his hand tighter. He would stay like this forever, hand in hand in the pouring rain, if it meant Lovi wouldn’t have to go.

He has no idea how long they stay there. He loses track of time, doesn’t think of anything but himself and Lovino and the beautiful, imperfect world around them. At some point, Lovi rests his head against Feliciano’s shoulder, and the warm weight of it is so real and alive, it seems impossible to think that the world will go on without him.

“Lovi,” he says.

“Hm?”

“I- I…” But suddenly he’s embarrassed, nervous, and the words won’t come. “I…”

Lovi squeezes his hand tightly, and the meaning is clear. _I know. I love you, too._

———

“ _What_ were you _thinking?_ ” Nonno says, roughly towelling Lovi’s hair dry. Feliciano has already dried himself off and is in fresh clothes – his softest flannel pyjamas – a towel hanging around his shoulders to catch the droplets from his hair. “Really, boys, I’m disappointed. I’d have thought you’d know better than to go outside in this weather. And without proper clothing as well. For goodness’ sake. Really, boys.”

Nonno was frightened. Feliciano can hear it in the way he talks, faster than usual, lacking his usual calm. Nonno has been stretched to the limit recently, with Lovino’s decline, and the stress is taking a toll on him. For the first time in over sixty years, he’s finally beginning to look his age.

“I’m sorry, Nonno,” Feliciano says.

“Not Feli’s fault,” Lovi protests. The words are slurred, and he has to force them out painfully. “My fault. Sorry. I went in rain and – and Feli came, for help. Sorry.”

Nonno’s face softens a little. “It’s okay, Lovino.” Gently, he brushes the damp hair from Lovi’s eyes. “Why did you go out in the rain?”

Lovi blinks, gazes past them blankly. “Don’t know,” he says. 

“Don’t worry, it’s okay. But please don’t do it again. Feliciano and I were scared for you.”

“Scared?” He looks bewildered. “Why?”

“I thought you were hurt,” Feliciano says. “Or lost. Or you’d been kidnapped. When the back door was open, I didn’t know where you were. I was really scared until I saw you outside in the rain.”

Lovi’s entire face is transformed with confusion. “I was outside?”

“Yes, Lovi. Just now.”

“Oh.” He looks down at his lap, and his eyes are guilty and lost. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay, Lovino.” Nonno steps in front of the wheelchair and embraces him, pressing his face into his shoulder. Feliciano wraps his arms around both of them and rests his cheek against Lovi’s bedraggled hair, and breathes him in, all rainwater and medicine and cocoa shampoo, the smell of his big brother. “It’s okay.”

  
———

That night, Feliciano climbs into Lovi’s bed. It’s become a habit now, every night, and it’s a comfort to both of them, to be able to hold each other close and savour each other’s presence. They don’t need to speak, or think about what’s happening to Lovi, to both of them. They can simply exist in the stillness of the night.

Lovi falls asleep first.

Feliciano watches the steady rise and fall of his chest, the light flutter of his eyelids, the pale skin on the back of his hand, faintly speckled with light pink blood test scars like freckles. He tries to imagine the chest stopping, the skin turning mottled and blue, the tiny twitches of his face stilling forever. 

He can’t imagine it. He can’t.

He pinches Lovi’s forearm, just to be sure, and Lovi grumbles in complaint and turns away from him. Feliciano sighs, relieved, and nestles against his warm back.

“I love you, Lovi,” he manages to whisper, now that Lovi is asleep. It feels good, to say it and mean it. If he tries hard enough, perhaps he can telepathically transport the message into Lovi’s dreams, make him know how much his brother loves him.

Feliciano hopes he knows already.

There’s going to be a day, he knows, when Lovi won’t remember him anymore. The doctors have warned him about it; someday, Lovi’s eyes will stare straight through him with that familiar glazed expression, and he won’t remember the little brother he protected from bullies and taught to ride a bicycle and told bedtime stories after the lights went out. Someday, Feliciano is going to become another face in a sea of unfamiliar faces.

But for now, Lovino knows him and loves him, and that’s enough.

The days are only going to get harder, Feliciano knows that, but in this moment, everything is exactly as it should be. In the silence of the night, time stops and the world holds its breath; and, in the white-slanted moonlight, Lovino smiles, and it’s the kind of smile that will live forever. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! This fic was an emotional journey for me, and I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I loved writing it.
> 
> I really appreciate feedback, so it’d be awesome if you could leave kudos and/or a comment to let me know what you thought! Thanks :)


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